


How It’s Supposed to Be

by Novapple



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Pre-Slash, this is kinda sad folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 00:32:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18201065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novapple/pseuds/Novapple
Summary: Gavin always figured he’d end up dying alone. He’s pleased and a little astonished to find out that’s not the case.





	How It’s Supposed to Be

_I think I'll die young_  
_With all my broken dreams_  
_I've_ _got_ _it_ _figured_ _out_  
_This_ _is_ _the_ _golden_ _key_  
_Everything_ _is_ _how_ _it's_ _supposed_ _to_ _be_

_Everything is how it’s supposed to be_

_***_

He always figured he’d end up dying alone. Lonely and sad and afraid. That was always how it was meant to be.

When he was a kid, he thought it was only a matter of time before his stepfather killed him. Maybe accidentally, maybe on purpose. There was enough close calls for the fear to be real.

As a teenager, he thought he’d never see eighteen, so there wasn’t really a point in trying.

There was that one period of time where he was hooked on drugs. He figured they’d end up killing him. He didn’t really care. That was kind of the goal, anyway.

Then suddenly he was twenty one and scared. Not a child anymore. No more excuses. He had to build himself an identity from the ground up, start making plans for who and what he wanted to be— plans most people had already figured out in high school. It felt a lot like falling, falling, falling endlessly.

He landed in the police academy.

He figured he’d end up getting killed on the job. Then again, so many of his morbid expectations had been subverted over the years, it was probably more likely he’d be hit by a bus.

Three things were always certain, though. Lonely, sad, and afraid.

Well.

He’s pleased to find out that at least one of those predictions that were so set in stone, just aren’t true. He’s not lonely.

Connor is here.

Connor is here, bleeding out from a gash that stretches from over his brow, all the way to the back of his head. A knife is embedded in his stomach. Gavin thinks, maybe, the side of his head is a little dented in, too, but he can’t be sure. It’s getting hard to see or focus on much of anything.

They lay beside each other, Connor stabbed and Gavin shot. They’d crawled across the room and met in the middle just to die beside one another.

Not alone.

Definitely afraid.

Death is scary. He never expected it to be so terrifying. He’s never believed in an afterlife, but he understands deathbed conversions now. All those years of just waiting to die and now that it’s happening, he doesn’t want to. A little funny. A little sad.

Definitely sad. Not for the reasons he thought he’d be.

He’s dying _something_. He’s dying accomplished. A detective. Not a failure. He’s saved lives— he just saved a life not even twenty minutes ago. That’s not nothing.

He’s sad because he’s leaving behind his cat and dog. They’ll be so depressed when he doesn’t come home. He can’t stomach thinking about it.

He’s sad because he’s leaving Tina. She can get by without him better than he could without her but… it’s not right. It’s useless to worry about how much he’ll miss her. Dead people don’t have the capability to miss anything. Still.

He’s sad because he wasted so much time with Connor. They threw all their chances away and now all they get is this. Dying together.

He’s sad because Connor is dying, even though he won’t be around to miss him. Still.

Still.

Connor turns his head to face him. Gavin is already staring at him, has been since they collapsed. He would much rather die looking at something beautiful than something dull, like the gray ceiling.

Bright blue blood is running into Connor’s eye. He would wipe it away if he had the strength to lift his arm.

“I should tell you,” Connor whispers. His voice cuts in and out with static overlaid on top of every vowel.

“Let’s not do deathbed confessions, yeah?”

The look Connor gives him, even inches away from death, is filled with more annoyance than he’s ever seen written on his face. And he’s had to deal with Gavin for two years now, which is saying something.

“I think I could’ve loved you.”

It’s a nice deathbed confession. Even if it does add to the pile of sadness. Connor could have loved him. They could have made it. Maybe.

“Yeah,” he rasps through the lump in his throat. “Well. Pretty sure I’ve loved you for a while. So.”

Connor closes his eyes and the only thing keeping Gavin from believing him dead is the smile pulling at his lips.

“Maybe we’ll find each other in the afterlife.”

He wants to snort. Connor’s joking. They’re dying and he’s making jokes. At least he thinks. He can’t be too sure with the haze clouding his brain. Maybe he’s serious. Maybe Connor is in a haze, too.

“Don’t think so, Con. Heaven’s too far away for people like you and me.”

“If there is life after for either of us, I think we’ll more likely run into each other in Hell.”

He laughs and it uses all his remaining energy. It hurt’s his insides so much that tears trickle down his face. His eyes drift shut.

Before he blacks out completely, he feels the ghost of fingers close around his own.

Not alone at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been dealing with death both literally and metaphorically lately. Here I am trying to reach catharsis by making my favs suffer. Both title and beginning quote taken from the Mike Posner song of the same name


End file.
